


you're the last of the real ones

by fireofthestars



Series: Katherine Shepard [1]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mass Effect 2, POV Shepard (Mass Effect), PTSD, Renegade Shepard (Mass Effect), Rough Sex, Self Harm, shepard is a masochist, shepard isn't good at feelings, violence as foreplay, you were warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-07-13 11:29:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16016969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireofthestars/pseuds/fireofthestars
Summary: Garrus is the constant. [ME2 told in snapshots]





	1. Chapter 1

Katherine has never been particularly sane. Even before Torfan, her history was littered with psychiatrists' notes including words like _hypervigilance bordering on paranoia_ and _acute panic attacks_. She had been shocked when she passed the Alliance's psych eval – there must be something to be said for repression. 

But she had never heard voices before. And she liked to think that if she did, it wouldn't be some bitch with an Australian accent telling her to wake up. Like a mother chiding her child for sleeping in on a school day. 

Her eyelids felt like they weighed two tons each. Her eyeballs felt strange – tight and slightly itchy. As she tried to blink the room – so bright white and sterile – into focus, images and sensations flashed in her mind. The inky, brilliant blackness of a sky, the shrill whistle of escaping air – and the crushing weight of breathlessness behind her ribs. Her heart began to pound erratically, pressure in her chest like a fist gripping tight. Her vision grew dim around the edges, stars dancing like they had in the sky over Alchera - 

"Shepard, you have to get up, this station is under attack."

The word “attack” was like a slug to the head. Her vision cleared. She bolted upright, fought a groan as the movement caused pain to radiate through her. It felt like she had been ripped apart by a thesher maw and stitched back together. She dug her nails into her palms, hard, refocusing her breathing. She inhaled once, deep, through her nose and cleared her mind. 

The stranger with the accent was a shrill bitch, but she made good sense, and Kat's brain felt fuzzy, like the morning after too much whiskey. So she let the voice guide her, through putting on her armor (how did they have her armor? She filed that question away), loading the pistol (lightweight and poorly made, she missed the heft of her rifle), dashing to cover. Let it guide her through the maze of a building, through rogue mechs and asshole doctors. She pressed play on audio logs that spoke of billions of credits being used on Project Lazarus, whatever the fuck that was. Her limbs felt awkward and clumsy, her aim was a mess and her heart continued its erratic dance, at times racing wildly without any rhyme or reason. 

And when she demanded answers from Taylor, in the pause between gunfire she heard “meat and tubes” and “2 years.” She registered this with almost clinical dispassion, filing it away in her head with the memory of her own breath, loud in her ears, turning to panicked gasps as the stars shrank around her. She saw the orange logo on his chest and nearly turned her gun on him right then. Fucking Cerberus, of course they were behind this. She had missed two years and god only knew what the Reapers had been up to. But like it or not, she was in no shape to fight her way out of here alone. Turns out, becoming Frankenstein's monster really took its toll on a girl. But she let him take the lead – she would be damned if she turned her back on him. 

–

Miranda, it turned out, looked exactly like she sounded – prim and far too pretty. And the Illusive Man? That pretentious asshole was, well, an asshole. Playing at god with cybernetics and skin weave. 

Kat stood under the hot spray of the shower, one thing she had no qualms about using on this ship, and ran her hands over her body. Was it really hers anymore? Old marks and wounds were gone – the tattoo of Athena on her left shoulder, the thick rope like scar on her right wrist, the beauty mark on her thigh. The skin, in those places, was now shiny and pink like a newborn baby. New scars crossed her cheeks, glowing from beneath like embers on a fire. They had managed to keep her freckles, although she had found herself scrutinizing them in the mirror, checking that the pattern was the same. Her palms were smooth and soft, her feet aching like they had the first time she wore combat boots. This entire body screamed brand new so loudly, she half expected to have that new car smell. Hell, she wondered if she would have to lose her virginity again. 

Meat and tubes. Two years. Meat and tubes. Her thoughts pulsed, the shiny new skin feeling suddenly too tight. Meatandtubesmeatandtubesmeattubesmeatmeatmeat

She punched the wall, gasping for air as the sharp sting brought the room back in to focus. The water had shut itself off, her skin pimpling in the cool air. 

“Commander, is everything alright?” The voice came from the ceiling and Kat jumped. God damned AI. 

“I'm fine!” She practically snarled, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around herself. Paused, thought. “Do we have any bourbon on this ship?”

Nothing like getting drunk to forget that you were just brought back from the dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard meets Archangel.

Afterlife was a shithole, and she loved it. The deep bass of the shitty club music, the smell of stale smoke and cheap liquor, the dancers who looked like they had seen better days, with deadened eyes and half-hearted movements. Clubs like this had been second homes during her runs with the Reds. She paused in the entryway, lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, ignoring the slight burn in her throat (damn virgin body). Miranda let out a fake cough and was met with a glare that could cut steel. 

As she smoked, she surveyed the floor. The rhythmic inhale and exhale only helped her focus. There was a merc in the corner of the stairway there, and a group of obnoxiously armored guards at the top of a small staircase. That must be where this “Aria” was, if she fancied herself the boss. Excessive and needlessly flashy. Stomping out her cigarette on the filthy floor, Shepard jerked her head for Miranda and Jacob to follow and strode towards the throne. 

“That’s close enough.” One gun was pointed at her, then a second. To their credit, she heard Miranda and Jacob immediately draw their own weapons. A nod from the asari’s head and the guards dropped their guns, but now a scanner was in her face. _Like hell._ She lunged forward, catching the guard with his omni tool pulled up by the armor. 

“Get that thing out of my face,” she said between teeth, jaw clenched and eyes flashing. “Or they will be cleaning omni tool out of your ass for weeks.” 

Aria actually laughed at this, but insisted that the scan was non negotiable. Kat bit her tongue until she tasted blood and clenched her itching fists, reminding herself that she needed the information this bitch had to offer. 

At the invitation, she dropped unceremoniously onto the couch beside Aria, pulling out another cigarette. The Asari summoned a lighter, and she took a deep drag. “Tell me about Archangel.”

X

Archangel was a damned good shot. The best she’d seen, she thought, since Garrus. The thought sent a sharp pang through her - she missed having him at her six. The two Cerberus employees were capable enough, but she didn’t trust them as far as she could throw them. As she methodically picked off mercs, her eye through the scope of her Mantis, her mind flashed back to the night after the Citadel. 

_The Dark Star lounge was crowded with the forms of her crew and the din of their voices. As drunk on triumph as they were on alcohol, they laughed freely and loudly. All except Vakarian, who sat alone at a table with an untouched glass in front of him. Eyes narrowing, she strode over and slid into the chair next to him. He startled slightly, to her surprise - he was almost never caught off guard, even by her._

_“Commander,” he acknowledged.  
“Too good for the liquor here? Or have you really been a straight arrow this whole time?” She teased. His brow plates rose, before glancing down at his still full glass. _

_“Ah, neither. Just. . .distracted, I suppose.”_

_She raised her eyebrow at him before taking a sip of her own whiskey._

_“I’m thinking about applying for the Spectres again,” he said, and she thought she sensed hesitancy in his subvocals._

_Her smile was smug. “I figured.” She took out a cigarette, lit it, and took a drag. “That’s why I already put in a recommendation.”_

_She couldn’t read turian faces that well, but she knew shock when she saw it. He opened his mouth, questions obviously on the tip of his tongue, and she waved them away. “Hell, Vakarian. Don’t overthink it. You understand how things should be, you know when you need to go outside the lines, you get it. We need more of that, more people who don’t have their heads so far up the rules asses that they let red tape get in the way.”_

_He watched the smoke curling from the red tip of her cigarette for a moment before nodding, once. Simple, understanding. “Damn straight.”_

_“Good, so now that you can let that go…” She pushed his drink towards him. “Drink up.” She grinned roguishly and downed the rest of her drink in one gulp. “You’ve got some catching up to do.”_

_His mandibles lifted in what resembled a smirk as he took the glass in hand. “Game on, Commander.”_

She wondered what the hell had happened that made him disappear off the Citadel. She didn’t worry about him, she knew he could handle himself - had watched him get headshots on too many damn Geth to not know that. But he had been so passionate about the status of a Spectre that she was surprised he would give it up. 

The way through was clear now, and she could see the blue armor of the vigilante on the ledge. 

More bodies littered the path, and as she climbed the stairs she noted a pile of corpses tucked into a corner. She counted - eight, nine, ten. Stacked up like firewood, but they didn’t look like any of the mercs she had seen so far. Around the corner, Archangel visibly tensed when he she said his name, but calmly lined up and took another shot before casually turning and removing his helmet.

_Well, I’ll be damned._  
  
“Shepard, I thought you were dead.” Vakarian’s subvocals hummed, she thought she heard relief there, and something else she couldn’t identify. His body language was loose, casual, confident - not like the kid he’d seemed on the SR1. Something cracked open in her chest at his smirk, flooding her limbs and chest with warmth, and she had to fight to keep her face from breaking into a grin. 

“Turns out with enough money, anyone can play Dr. Frankenstein,” she said wryly. His brow plate lifted in confusion at the reference. “But what the hell are you doing here, on this shithole?”

He told her about the Citadel, about the assholes trying to make her sound crazy; about the red tape driving him crazy until finally he snapped; about coming here, where he could do some real good. He told her about his gang, about being betrayed. She knew him well enough to know what anger looked like on his face, and she thought she also saw guilt in the flattening of his mandibles. The warmth in her chest turned to hot rage as he spoke, her muscles tensing, her jaw clenching. 

“We’ll fucking kill them all,” she promised when he finished. His eyes sparked with approval. 

And they did a pretty good fucking job, until the end. That god damned gun ship, she should have sabotaged it, too. But she had thought it was out of the game, and now Garrus was lying on the ground, hand twitching toward his rifle as blue blood spilled out onto the floor. His face was a mess of broken plates and muscle. 

Later, she would only vaguely remember the run back to the Normandy, his bulky frame between her and Jacob, the rage making her vision go white and red in turns. Dr. Chakwas pushing her out the med bay doors, punching them as they closed in front of her. 

But in the shower that night, she stared long and hard at her newly bloodied knuckles and the water swirling down the drain, tinged with bright azure blue.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kat can't sleep. Neither can Garrus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which nothing happens, but SO MUCH happens. PS I suck at writing action and battle but am going to try next chapter. Sorry in advance! (Really I'm impatient to get to the smut, but the chronology would be all over the place.)

The stars outside the observation deck were bright in the inky black sky. She had always loved the night sky, had been almost giddy the first time she had seen it from the deck of a war ship, the magic of space momentarily sending her back to childhood - lying on her back on a blanket, watching her mother’s fingers trace constellations and listening with rapt attention to stories of Chronos, Perseus and Orion. 

Now, it spoke of crushing breathlessness, of helpless twisting in the nether as her vision faded around the edges. Her fist clenched, the glass in her hand cracking under the strength of her new cybernetic grip. The pounding of her heart was a drum beat in her ears. She could almost hear the shrinks - she had seen many in her time - voices, chiding her - _If it hurts, why not stop?_ And wasn’t that just the story of her life? But Katherine Shepard would be damned if she let herself fear something as abstract as _space_. Besides, exposure therapy was a thing, she had heard of it. Even if she was pretty certain it didn’t involve copious amounts of nicotine and whiskey. So she would stay, staring at the goddamned stars, until it didn’t make her heart race and the breath catch in her throat. 

She was stabbing out the end of her cigarette when the door hissed open behind her. She was turned around and had her pistol - she never left her cabin without it - aimed at the intruder before they closed, mind clicking into focus like the safety being switched off. 

A single blue eye blinked owlishly, taloned hands held out in a gesture of peace. 

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Garrus!” She swore, hands still on the gun. “I almost fucking shot you!” 

“I can see that,” he rumbled sardonically. “I’d also appreciate it if you weren’t still pointing that thing at me. We both know you have a hair trigger.” His mandibles flicked out in what she had come to recognize as a grin. She rolled her eyes in response to his jab, but lowered the gun and slid the safety back on. Her hands felt suddenly empty, so she grabbed her lighter and began to flick it open and closed. She hated the way his eyes followed the motion, hated that she knew his damned visor was picking up on her pulse, her body temperature, her respiration rate. Hated what he may be reading into the data. 

Since returning to the Normandy, Garrus had become a constant. He had signed on without question, his faith in her catching her off guard. 

_If you’re working with Cerberus, it has to be for a good reason. You never do anything without one._ His gaze and voice had been steady - not a trace of doubt. Something about the look on his face as he again swore to follow her into hell had caused her to feel off kilter, like the first time she walked in zero g. 

She had always trusted him, in the way she trusted any competent member of her crew. Trusted him to watch her six, to make the shots, to keep his ass out of the line of fire. Then, later, she had trusted that he understood the mission, that he was willing to do whatever it took. But he had seemed so young, although she knew he was only a few years younger than herself. He had been such an apt pupil, his admiration and need for her approval almost palpable.

Omega had changed him. Hardened him, carved away the soft edges and honed them into a sharpened point. He was beyond competent, now - he was a damned force of nature. And what’s more, he knew it. The smug bastard sang his own praises after every headshot, had even been so ballsy as to suggest that he could outshoot _her_. 

He was the only damned person she had to watch her back now, and the trust felt different now, more personal, and vastly more dangerous. And when she looked at him too long, her vision focused on the bandage on his face and she felt a little sick. _Gurgling, gasping, azure blood in his mouth, on her hands._

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked, voice light but subvocals lending a softness to the tone. 

“God damned bed is too soft.” She flopped back onto the couch, grabbed a cigarette from her carton, lit it to put her hands to use. The first drag almost didn’t sting at all - she hummed with satisfaction. 

“Mmm,” he replied, his eyes steady on her, and she wanted to punch him. Even without turian hearing, she knew skepticism when she heard it. 

“And what about you, Vakarian?” She shot back, pointedly blowing smoke in his direction. “What has you skulking around my ship at this time of night?” 

“ _Your_ ship? Funny, I don’t see an alliance crest on this vessel, Shepard.” 

“I can still throw you out the airlock, _Archangel._ ”

His mandibles flared, his grin sharp, and he rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “Couldn’t sleep, either. But a soft bed can’t be my excuse - not much room for one in the battery.” 

Her brows pulled together, suddenly serious. “Jesus, Garrus, we can get you a real room.”

He chuckled, eye glinting behind his visor. “I’ll be fine, Commander. I have a cot, pretty standard fare for a Turian in war time. No, I’ve always been a restless sleeper. Omega just didn’t help things.” He said this casually, and for some reason she was thrown by it. 

“Nightmares?” She surprised herself by asking, taking another gulp of whiskey to cover the slight tremor in her hands. She knew he could see the spike in her pulse, but she kept her expression flat, giving nothing away. 

He regarded her carefully, blue eyes sharp, and she was suddenly reminded that he was a predator. She felt like quarry in his gaze, and stood up straighter in response. 

“Sometimes,” he finally said. He did not ask the same of her, and she knew he already knew the answer. Their gazes held, the silence thick with understanding, and there was that feeling again - like she just stepped out of an airlock. 

She broke eye contact first - _damn it, what WAS that?_ \- and slammed back the rest of her drink, savoring the burn in the back of her throat. She stabbed out her cigarette with more force than necessary. “Well,” she said flatly, “I’m going to go get some shitty coffee and write this damn mission report.” She stood. “Enjoy the stars.”

He didn't move from his spot in the doorway, so as she went to leave the room, they were almost close enough to touch. His eyes were steady on her, his expression unreadable. 

His voice was soft at her back when it came. 

“Good night, Shepard.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard hates bugs, but she hates Garrus's knowing looks more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kat, you in trouble girl.
> 
> PS: Please call me out if there are any random tense switches. My brain apparently wants this to be in present tense.

Omega had been a shit hole, but Horizon was a fucking disaster. 

Most of the colony was already been gone by the time they arrived. The few bodies they had found - and they were bodies, because the poor bastards weren’t getting out - had been encased in a strange, amber like substance. The first clue that the collectors were just as fucking creepy as their bosses.

 _Bugs, it had to be giant fucking bug men._ The Collectors had too many eyes, too many limbs, and made the most unsettling chittering noise. That sound burrowed into her, moved down her spine like a razor, casting her shots slightly wide. Garrus was looking at her strangely, and she shrugged, tried for casual. “I hate bugs.” 

He just shook his head. 

Of course, there was also a bitchy mechanic, blaming the Alliance for the shit show. But at least he told them about the defense tower. She stood near the console, rifle at the ready, waiting for EDI to realign the lasers. The now familiar buzzing of wings filled the air. “Here they come,” she called into the comm as she lined up her scope with the farthest Collector. 

And watched as a bullet that was not hers blew its head clean off. 

“Damn it, Vakarian,” she growled, “that one was mine.” She was more impressed than annoyed, already lining up a shot on the creature to the left, squeezing the trigger smoothly and grinning at the explosion of gore. 

“Too slow, Shepard.” His rifle cracked as the collector farthest to the right fell. “You’re off your game today.” She could hear the concern under the teasing. Low groans began to fill the air. 

“I told you -” she fired a cryo round into a husk rapidly approaching Garrus’s cover, reloaded in one smooth motion. “I. Hate. Bugs.” The form burst into shards of bloodied ice. “You’re welcome.” 

“Riiiiight,” he drawled - shot a Collector between the eyes, gunned down two approaching husks. “Can’t you just admit that I’m the better shot?”

“Like hell you are -” She was cut off by the sudden blaring hum that meant Harbinger had joined the party. “Jacob, warp his barrier! Garrus, concussive rounds! I’m going dark.” She toggled her cloak, moving into a better position, waiting for the barriers to drop. After the heavy boom of Garrus’s shot, she straightened, eye down the scope, lining up the shot - and pulled the trigger. 

The heavy round went clean through the Collector’s wide plated forehead, dropping to the ground with an angry screech. Her breath was rapid and heavy in her own ears, adrenaline pumping hot through her veins. 

“Commander,” EDI’s voice came over the comm. “The lasers are fully charged, ready for activation.” 

“About time!” She walked back to the console. “Just tell me what to -”

“What the fuck is that?!” Taylor’s voice - disgust and shock, oh that couldn’t be good. She slowly turned and - _holy shit._

Thank god she had brought the missile launcher. 

“Get clear, boys. It’s time for the big guns.”

-

Her knuckles already felt bruised, but she swung again, connecting hard with the bag. The sting was sweet, but fading quickly - one downside of her cybernetics was that it was harder to indulge her more self destructive tendencies. It was part of why she was so satisfied that she no longer coughed up a lung after chain smoking - it was a sign that she had control over some part of her body, still. Cerberus may have made her shiny and new, but she could easily be tarnished again. 

So she hit it harder, launched her foot out in a side kick that sent the bag swinging. Almost hitting Garrus as he walked through the door. 

She may have been surprised, but his presence had become a constant both on and off the ship. He found her now, most nights, in the observation deck. Sometimes he brought her coffee, and she wondered how he knew to make it, let alone how she took it. Most people would guess black, but she actually liked it laden with sugar, so much that it was sticky on her tongue. They talked, sometimes - he told her about his teammates on Omega, she shared stories of N school, they bitched about The Illusive Man. 

So him finding her here didn’t even have her raising an eyebrow. 

He steadied the punching bag, stepped back and looked at her appraisingly. She hated when he did that - she knew a question was coming, knew that he was reading her body for tells, and even without the visor, he had been a detective for years. He was good at reading people. 

“You okay, Shepard?”

He didn’t elaborate, he didn’t have to. Ashley’s accusations had been thrown at him, too, but he wasn’t Alliance. And he hadn’t been sort of friends with her. 

“I’m fine,” she answered flatly, driving another punch into the bag, now held between his hands. He didn’t so much as flinch. 

“She’s wrong, you know.” His voice was soft. Her eyes narrowed, a tendril of hair falling into her eyes. She pushed it out of the way angrily, landing another kick. 

“Is she?” She didn’t know why she was saying it - wouldn’t have said it to anyone else, but this was _Garrus_ and it was coming up her throat, the thought she hasn’t dared voice. “I hardly recognized myself in the mirror. This body is so new it might as well have been shrink wrapped. My scars are gone, my tattoos - they say they rebuilt me, but did they? If I was a cyborg, would I know?”

The words tasted sour in her mouth, and they laid heavy in the air. The room was silent except for their breathing, and he was giving her that _god damned look_. 

And then, suddenly, his face broke into a grin. 

“You had tattoos, Shepard?” His voice was almost a purr, and she blinked at his response. But she saw it for what it was - an out - and she was immensely grateful. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She returned. The smirk he gave her did something funny to her stomach, so she turned away, took a drink of her water. 

“Shepard.” His voice was low and serious. She turned to face him. 

His gaze was soft and steady. “ _I_ know. You’re you.” The words were solid with conviction, and she felt suddenly weightless, the sensation every bit as acute as when she was spaced. 

And then it was over. The grin was back, his voice humming with amusement as he said “Besides, who would give a cyborg such shit taste in movies? _The Sound of Music_ , what kind of drivel is that?” 

She faked a glare, shaking off the strange lightness in her limbs. “Oh that’s it, Vakarian. You are _on._ ”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard needs to blow off steam after the Collector Vessel. Garrus gets caught in the crosshairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA: Now things are getting interesting.

Her fist hit air as the Illusive Man dissolved around her. Rage was thick in her throat, choking her, her vision red around the edges. The son of a bitch had led her - and her team - right into a goddamned trap. A trap that had led Tali to the med bay with a bullet wound to the arm. Tali, who was still skittish around her, thanks to the mess on Freedom’s Progress. 

Shepard stormed out of the comm deck, and the crew gave her a wide berth. Anger crackled around her like electricity, she could feel her scars pulsing, shifting red under the skin. She knew they, and the eerie glow to her eyes, made her look monstrous. _Good._

Garrus was perched against the wall, but fell into step beside her as she passed. His long limbs easily matched her stride, even stomping as she was. But he said nothing, simply followed her to the training room. And without a word passing between them, he held the bag steady as she began to punch it with all the force her cybernetically enhanced muscles could manage. Her knuckles were bare, the sting welcome. Her focus narrowed to the space between her fists as they struck, the thud and sway of the bag, the rush of blood in her ears. Again, again, again - her blows landed, the sting turning to a persistent burn, and still she swung. _Thud, thud, thud_ \- her fists moved in time with the pulsing of her blood, that thrumming noise in her skull. Her chest was slick with sweat, her hair falling messily into her face. _Thud, thud, thud_ \- 

A taloned hand was pulling her arm away, even as she kept swinging - 

“Shepard - Shepard, _stop_!” Subharmonics trilled with alarm. She let her arm be held still, becoming slowly aware of her own rapid breathing. Garrus gently lowered her arms to her side, his piercing gaze focused on her and brow plate lowered - even she could read concern in his face. 

“You’re bleeding,” he stated softly, gaze darting to her hands. And she was - her knuckles were cracked open, blood painting the backs of both hands. The red was startlingly vibrant in the ship’s overhead lights, making the rest of the room look almost cartoonishly monochrome in comparison. 

“Shit,” she swore. “Better wrap these up before I keep up.” She moved towards her locker and he was blocking her path - and was she wrong or did he look pissed?

“Are you insane?” Yep, definitely pissed - it was clear as bells in both layers of his voice. She wasn’t sure why, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t witnessed her somewhat excessive sessions before. “If you keep it up, you’re going to break something.” 

She shrugged in response to this. “Nothing a little medi-gel can’t fix.” Went to move around him. 

He moved with her. “Like hell.” 

Her eyes narrowed. “Garrus, move the hell out of my way.” The anger was tightening in her gut again, a rush of heat in her body as her muscles coiled, tensing for a fight. 

“No.” He folded his arms across his chest, leaning back to look at her, and she was reminded suddenly of his size, of the predatory lines of his frame. “I put up with your masochistic shit a lot, Shepard. But I won’t watch you beat yourself to a bloody pulp.” 

Her jaw clenched, she felt her molars grinding together. “If you don’t move your ass, Garrus, I swear -”

“Swear what, _Commander_?” His tone was mocking, and the heat reached her face, eyes flashing. “Going to put me in the brig? I’m not Alliance, and for that matter, neither are you -”

He didn’t finish his sentence before she swung, aiming for his scarred mandible - no one ever said she didn’t fight dirty - but he dodged smoothly. 

“Shepard,” he growled, “what the hell?!”

She didn’t answer, simply swung again. Rage and exhaustion made her movements sloppy, telegraphed, and this time he grabbed her wrist in the air. The motion brought their faces close together, and the eye unobstructed by his visor was a pure, blazing blue. Her breathing was rapid, shallow, the heat in her body pulsing at their proximity. For a moment she felt like she was caught in a stasis field, paralyzed. 

She straightened her spine, swept her leg under his and he stumbled. She used the opportunity to try to drive her fist into the dip in his waist - she remembered from Basic that this was a vulnerable spot in turian anatomy. 

She was suddenly on her back, breath leaving her with a _whoosh_ as about 250lb of Turian and heavy armor pinned her to the ground. Garrus was above her, his mandibles tight against his face and his eyes blazing. Her heart was hammering, beating a tattoo into her ribs. 

“What the _fuck_ , Kat?” His voice was a deep rumble, it seemed to travel through her body where his legs covered hers. There was anger, and confusion, and concern - all conveyed in 4 simple syllables. Turian voices were so complex, she wondered what human voices sounded like to his ears. 

The heat in her chest was fading, migrating lower, and he was still staring at her, wondering what the hell had just happened, and his eyes were so bright, his body was so warm perched above hers - 

Before she could think, Shepard lunged forward and pressed her mouth against his. 

He hummed, his subvocals vibrating, and she couldn’t read the emotion in it at all but she didn’t care. Something was clicking into place, like the slide of a new magazine into a barrel. Anger fled her body like a sigh - _ah_ \- and she felt every muscle turn liquid. The weightless feeling was back again, but this time she was running towards it, not away. 

She licked along his mandible and the resulting low growl brought a rush of heat to her groin. His teeth were as sharp as needles, she nicked her tongue and tasted blood. She was acutely aware of his armored groin against hers. Her tongue touched his - rough in texture, it made her breath catch. He pressed closer to her, and she felt rather than heard herself let out a low moan as she rubbed herself against him. 

And then he was pulling away, staring at her with an indecipherable expression. Her heart continued to pound in her ears and she licked her lips slowly, savoring the taste of him. He tasted like gun oil and something spicy and exotic. Just looking at him now was making her horny, and she wondered how long this had been building. 

“Shepard,” he began, unsure. “I -”

For once, she didn’t fire off a smart ass remark. She didn’t yell, or curse. The kiss had knocked her off balance, she felt like a goddamned teenager. She waited, waited for him to give voice to what had just happened. For once, she would have even welcomed _feelings _talk.__

So of course, for the first time since she had known him, Garrus Vakarian ran. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack actually gives decent advice, wrapped up in profanity.

Purgatory was _loud_. The bass beat thrummed through her feet, up her legs and coiled warmly in her gut, mixing with the pleasant buzz of the whiskey in her Heat Sink. The drink names were hilarious - all plays on weapons, or biotic powers. Hell, there was even a First Human Spectre cocktail. Jack had teased her mercilessly for that one. 

She watched an Asari dance on a table, eyes following the sinuous movements of limbs as she sipped from her glass. She was 4 drinks in and feeling pretty good, limbs loose and tingly. 

“So what the hell is with Scars, lately?” 

If Shepard had been someone else - or had kept a little more quiet about her cybernetic enhancements rather than bragging _I’m a motherfucking cyborg I can take you all_ last time she was drunk - she could have pretended not to hear Jack. Without auditory enhancement implants, the words would have been lost under the pulsing music. Instead, she played dumb. “I haven’t noticed anything.” Which was a bald faced lie - for the past week, since the training room, the most Shepard had seen of Garrus was his back retreating into the main battery. He was avoiding her, and she was letting him, because the alternative was an awkward conversation. She didn’t _do_ awkward conversations. 

“Bullshit.” Jack took a cigarette from the pack on the table, lit it, inhaled. “What’d you do, fuck with the firing rate on the Thanix?” 

Shepard snorted. He wouldn’t avoid her for that - he would _kill_ her. Nothing came between Garrus and his precious calibrations. The damned nerd. She shook her head, downed the rest of her drink in one gulp, rolled her shoulders back. 

“Nah. I kissed him.” 

Jack choked on the smoke in her mouth but recovered quickly, eyes gleaming wickedly. “No shit?”

“No shit.” 

“And what, he’s not into humans?” Jack tapped her cigarette against the ashtray, took a sip of her own drink. Shepard rolled her eyes in response. 

“Fuck, I don’t know. I didn’t exactly ask him. He seemed into it, and then he just - “ she broke off, angrily slamming her glass onto the table. “Why the hell are we even having this conversation? I’m thirty fucking years old, I don’t do boy drama.” 

This time, Jack snorted. “Could have fooled me.” 

Shepard fished for the carton on the table, pulled a cigarette free and angrily shoved it into her mouth. Jack extended her lighter and she inhaled deeply, her face pulled into a scowl. 

“Shepard,” the other woman began, her voice flat. “You’re being a goddamned pussy.” 

Anger rose in her throat. “Watch it, Jack, or I’ll kick your -”

“I’m just saying -” Jack cut in, smoke curling as she leaned in and pointed her finger at Shepard. “I don’t know why dinosaur dick gets you going, but if it does - stop tiptoeing around it. _That_ is a pussy move, and _you_ are not a pussy.” 

She stabbed out her cigarette and stood. “And I am going to go find someone of my own to fuck. I’ll see you back on board.” And she stalked away, biotics flaring blue and parting the crowd. 

Shepard let out a sigh and leaned back in her seat. Jack’s words were bouncing in her skull like a frag grenade, she could feel the impact where they landed. _Stop tiptoeing around it._

She was going to need something stronger to deal with the implication of those words, and the feeling curling in her stomach as she turned them over in her mind. She gestured to the Asari waitress with one finger. 

“Let me try some of the ryncol.” _Let’s see how bionic I really am._

\---

The answer, it turned out, was _not enough_. 

Someone was speaking, but she couldn’t make out the words. The room was fuzzy around the edges. Her eyes felt like sandpaper, her tongue thick in her mouth. And there was a crashing sound from somewhere, loud as a hammer to her skull - what the _fuck_. 

Shepard sat up slowly, blearily, closing her eyes as the room started to spin. Bile rose in her throat at the motion and she inhaled deeply through her nose. 

She was actually hung over. This hadn’t happened since her first night drinking as an Alliance soldier, when she had downed 6 Heat Sinks and 2 draft beers in the span of 2 hours. She had long since learned to hold her liquor, probably a little too well. _Wrex always dared me to try Ryncol, said it would have me on my ass faster than an Asari commando. Guess he wasn’t wrong._

“Commander, your presence is required in the cargo bay.” EDI’s voice was far too chipper and echoed sickeningly in her head. 

“Why?” She winced as the word came out as a groan. 

“Grunt has become - quite restless.” Another crash from below, the sound like an ice pick in the base of her skull. “Are you unwell, Commander? Your vital signs are -”

 

“I’m fine, EDI!” Her own voice was too loud and she groaned again. “Is there coffee ready?” One good thing about Cerberus, they didn’t skimp on the joe. 

“Yes, Commander, of course, but I would recommend that you -” 

“Got it, EDI. Log me out.” She could have sworn she heard the AI huff, but fuck it. There was no way she was going any closer to the source of all the noise without some caffeine. And maybe a saline drip, if Chakwas would do it. 

An hour and 2 cups of coffee, but no saline drip (Chawkwas had only glared at her and said something about ‘natural consequences’ when she asked), later, and Shepard was following the sounds of objects being thrown, and what sounded like headbutted, to the cargo bay. 

Grunt was pacing, entire body tense and his eyes flashing dangerously. The room was torn apart around him, the door to his tank shattered and thrown halfway across the room. 

“Grunt, what the fuck are you doing?” 

He stilled, but did not look at her. “Shepard,” he growled. “I feel...wrong.” He began to pace again. “Like I want to kill something. Tear it apart.” He turned to face her, and he looked scared. He looked like a kid, and she was reminded that he was basically a damned baby. “But it feels... _different_. Not like myself. It feels…”

 

“Wrong?” She supplied wryly, drawing on his earlier words. His face lit up at her understanding. 

“Yes!” He frowned. “What’s wrong with me?”

“I have no idea. But I know someone who might.” 

\---

Garrus looked as shocked as she was when she ordered him to be in the shuttle in 10, armored up and ready to go. She hadn’t intended to bring him along, but she also couldn’t imagine going to meet up with Wrex with anyone else. Too many memories of the three of them, shooting the shit in the armory, as Garrus worked on the Mako. 

Which is how - after some bullshit about an ancient coming of age rite, and after headbutting an asshole Krogan (her head still ached) - she found herself meeting his blue eyes as they ducked into cover from the acid spray of a thresher maw. 

They moved together as fluidly as ever, alternating shots, handing off thermal clips and ammo so the sharp cracks of their rifles continued in an uninterrupted rhythm. But no quips were traded, her fingers burned when they brushed his, and her face was uncomfortably flushed. She found herself noticing the way his brow plates shifted as he concentrated on lining up his shot, the telltale shift in his speed when the song on his playlist changed (she had teased the shit out of him when she found out about it, as if she hadn’t had her own during her early Alliance days), the lift of his mandibles in a smirk when he made a headshot. 

_I don’t know why dinosaur dick does it for you_ \- god damn, she felt like a teenager. Clumsy and distracted. And he didn’t seem bothered at all. 

The maw let out a screech that she recognized as it being close to death. Garrus nodded once to her, and she copied the gesture. “Grunt, get in there and finish it!” 

Grunt whooped with joy and tucked his head down. She met Garrus’s eyes with a grin as the young Krogan drew his body up to full height and _charged_. There was the wet sound of flesh tearing, an ungodly scream, and Grunt was coming back into view, covered in green globs of slime and chitinous flesh. 

“That’s going to leave a stain,” Garrus drawled, and she couldn’t help but laugh. He grinned at her briefly in return, before clearing his throat and looking at the ground. Annoyance flared. Wrex and the other Krogan were beginning to flood into the arena. Wrex met her eyes, flicked his own between she and Garrus, and chuckled deeply. She flipped him her finger, and he laughed louder. 

_You are not a pussy._ Jack’s words once again echoed inside her mind, and she felt the annoyance turn to determination, steeling her spine and and jaw. _Alright, Vakarian. You don’t get to dodge me anymore._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack has such a way with words.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kat confronts Garrus, and things get fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting good! I think I'm doing okay at writing banter, too, so I'm proud of myself!

_ I really could use a drink, _ she thought, as she strode towards the main battery, her body language full of confidence - spine straight, shoulders back - she didn’t feel. Which was ridiculous - she could confront rogue Spectres and headbutt angry Krogans without blinking, but going to talk to her best friend about a kiss had her palms sweating like a god damned teenager with a crush. Which she did not have. She was thirty years old, she didn’t have crushes. She respected Garrus, she trusted him, and so what if the way he lined up a shot got her going? It was just physical. 

 

Still, her heart pounded as she found herself in front of the battery doors. She hesitated -  _ get it together, Kat - _ before slamming her hand onto the lock sensor, maybe a touch harder than necessary. 

 

Garrus was at his console, talons flying on the keys. He didn’t look up as she entered and leaned casually against the railing. She was able to take a moment to assess him. He was out of his armor, a rare occurrence, and his civvies allowed her a better view of him. The sharp angles of his hips jutting out from a narrow waist, the spurs on the back of his calves, the leathery looking skin at the nape of his neck - completely alien, and yet her pulse increased even further. 

 

He cleared his throat, loudly - pointedly, she thought. “Shepard,” he still didn’t turn, and his voice was oddly formal. “Need me for something?” 

 

_ Yeah, I need you to bend me over that console and -  _ “No, I just wanted to talk. . .about why the hell you’ve been avoiding me.” She tried to keep her tone casual, but anger crept into the last 2 words. She saw him stiffen, his fingers freezing, just for a second. Someone else might have missed it. 

 

His voice was still formal and cool when he replied, “Can it wait for a bit? I’m in the middle of some calibrations.” 

 

Anger came, hot and red, replacing her arousal. She felt her jaw clench.  _ Oh no you fucking don’t, Vakarian.  _ She crossed the distance between them, grabbed his shoulder and forcefully turned him to face her. 

 

“No, it can’t.” 

 

He didn’t flinch - he never did, even at her worst. He took a small step back, all that the space would allow, and crossed his arms over his chest. Confident and casual, his Archangel mask slipping into place. Her mouth went slightly dry at the sight but she forced herself to focus on her irritation.  _ Focus, girl. _

 

He was silent and still as a stone, but she didn’t miss the way his mandibles lay flat against his face but twitched slightly, a sign she recognized as one of anxiety. It cooled her temper slightly. 

“Look, Vakarian - Garrus -” God damn, she felt tongue tied and awkward. She didn’t want to apologize - he wasn’t her subordinate, she hadn’t taken advantage of him, and he had kissed her  _ back. _ She didn’t  _ need _ to apologize. What she needed was to know -

 

“What the hell happened? Why did you run off, and why have you been hiding like a varren that’s been kicked too many times since?”

 

His mandible flared slightly and he blinked, once, twice. 

 

“Ugh!” She threw her hands in the air in frustration. “What? Are you not into humans, because you seemed to enjoy it!”

 

“No,” he replied suddenly, then coughed slightly. “I mean - ah - no, I’m not into humans, as a general rule. But, that’s not why I left.” 

 

“Then why?” She stepped forward and poked him, not too hard, in the center of his chest. It was all hard plating. “And  _ no bullshit. _ ”

 

He narrowed his eyes and grabbed her wrist, lightning fast. Caught in his gaze, his strong grip around her arm, the heat coming off of him - she was reminded suddenly that he was a predator. That he could probably kill her before she could blink, cybernetics or no, even without his rifle. And god damn if that didn’t make her wet. 

 

“Because I’m not going to be another way for you to self destruct.” 

 

His words threw her, she rocked back on her heels as if physically struck and he dropped her arm. Out of all the possible reasons she considered for his reaction, this was never one of them.  “Is that what you think that was?” 

 

One brow lifted. “You were pissed and had just punched your hands bloody. You’re telling me it  _ wasn’t? _ ”

 

She realized she couldn’t immediately answer him. Honestly, the entire incident had faded around the edges, leaving only vivid memories of the sensation of his armored weight on top of her, the sting of his teeth against her tongue and the overwhelming heat. She forced herself to think back beyond that. 

 

“No,” she finally answered, and the word rang with sincerity. “The fight was. But then -” His gaze was appraising and patient, a detective waiting for his witness to spill their guts. “Shit, Garrus. I trust you, I like you. I don’t have a turian fetish either, but. . .” She shrugged her shoulders. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. “But if you’re really not interested, that’s fine.” Something inside her screamed its protest. She straightened her spine and flashed him a wicked grin. “I’m sure Taylor or Krios would be more than happy to help me blow off steam.” She threw the jab - the bait, because she  _ knew _ he was interested damn it - flashed a wicked grin, and turned as if to walk out. 

 

She expected him to give a derisive snort, or say her name to stop her. What she  _ didn’t _ expect was to hear a low growl - a growl that caused heat to unfurl in her belly - and feel talons grip her wrist and roughly spin her around. She didn’t expect to be turned around and pushed against the console. She didn’t expect to suddenly feel his mouth on hers and a hot tongue snake into her mouth. A tongue that was, it seemed,  _ far _ more flexible than a human tongue. 

 

She didn’t expect it, but damn did she love it. 

 

She tangled her tongue with his before running it along his mandible, rewarded with the same low hum she remembered from the training room. His taloned hands were on her waist, thumb rubbing the skin leading down to her hips and leaving trails of fire. Her hand found the nape of his neck and she curled her hand into his fringe. He gave another dual toned growl that went straight to her groin and she moaned softly, hitching her leg around his waist and rubbing herself slightly against him. He purred like a goddamned kitten and his body seemed to vibrate with his subharmonics. She broke their kiss to nip at the exposed skin below his mandible and he sucked in a sharp breath. 

 

“Shepard,” he said weakly, as she continued to nip and lick at this patch of skin. His voice sounded far away through the haze of lust - her entire body was flushed and she was almost painfully horny. She rubbed herself against him again, the hard plating on his thighs causing delicious friction. “Shepard,” the word broke in his mouth as she licked the edge of a sharp tooth. “ _ Kat. _ ” 

 

She forced herself to break away from her ministrations. “What?” She tried to sound annoyed, but she was practically panting.  _ Why the hell is he stopping this?  _ He looked no different, damned Turians and their inability to flush, but she thought there was a gleam in his eyes. 

 

“Not that I’m not enjoying this . . .” he chuckled softly, and she felt wetness flood her panties.  _ How can I get so hot from just his voice? I am wrecked. _ “But before we . . . continue, we need to figure things out. Do some research. Maybe talk to Mordin.”

 

Now it was her turn to blink owlishly. “Research? I knew you were nerdy, but come on, Garrus. Gonna break out the Encylopedia Erotica?”

 

He coughed a laugh. “Ah, erm, no . . .” He ducked his head. “I was thinking more along the lines of. . .vids. Make sure it’s not an awkward disaster.” 

 

“You want to watch porn?” She couldn’t stop herself from grinning. “Do they even  _ make _ Turian Human porn?”

 

He shook his head. “I’m betting one person knows.” Their eyes met. 

 

“Joker,” they said simultaneously. 

 

His mandibles flared in a grin. This close, she could see the twinkle in his eyes as he smiled, the way his facial plates relaxed. There was that feeling again, warmth in her chest and a  _ whoosh _ like stepping into zero g. She forced herself to step back slightly, away from the heat of his body, it was obviously messing with her head. 

 

“And Mordin?  _ Why _ do you want me to talk to a Salarian doctor about our sex life?”

 

He shrugged. “We don’t know if there are any. . .interactions. Better safe than sorry.”

 

“Has Joker been teaching you human idioms again?” 

 

He smirked. “Taylor, actually. What is your species’ obsession with chicken, by the way?”

 

She laughed. “Beats the hell out of me. But fine, I will talk to Mordin. You get our porn. I’m guessing you don’t want to watch it together?” She arched an eyebrow at him teasingly, but truthfully the visual was pretty tempting. 

 

“No, I don’t think I’m brave enough for that.” His tone was light, but something in his subvocals thrummed strangely. “I’ll send you what I find . . .and we’ll find the right time.” 

 

She rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s noncommittal.” She turned to leave - deja vu - and this time, he touched her gently on the arm. She looked back at him over her shoulder. His face was serious. 

 

“It will be soon,” he promised, voice low and subharmonics humming. A flush of heat ran through her body as their gazes held. Her mouth felt dry, her tongue thick. 

 

And then he grinned. “Good talk, Shepard.” His tone was once again joking and light.  _ Bastard. _

 

Somehow she was leaving the battery even more off balance than when she arrived. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys. How smutty do you want this? I am taking votes - more vague sex, less graphic descriptions, or the whole shebang? I don't want the transition to feel jarring considering it's been mostly character and relationship exploration up until now, but these kids are horny. And the Sidonis chapter is especially going to be hot.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking down an ardat-yakshi is no small feat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took forever to write. Partially because I got a puppy and they take a lot of energy, partially because I just struggled with it. I'm still not sure I'm satisfied with it, but here it is.

Garrus was leaning casually against the wall as she exited the observatory. 

 

“Spying, Vakarian?” She teased, arching a brow, walking to the elevator. 

 

“Nah, just watching your six. You don’t exactly walk the line, a Justicar could turn on you at any minute.” 

 

He had a point. She shrugged her shoulders. “That’s why I need to earn her trust - I don’t need to worry about a pissed off biotic warrior on top of the Collectors.” They stepped into the elevator, their movements in perfect sync. 

 

“So what does  _ she _ want from you?” He sounded only mildly annoyed. He wasn’t a huge fan of the amount of favors being asked of her by their crewmates. 

“Oh just some family drama.” She recounted Samara’s tale briefly, and Garrus’s eyes lit up.    
  


“Taking on an ardat-yakshi?  _ Nice. _ ” She snorted. His reaction reminded her so strongly of Wrex that it hurt a little. “I’ll suit up.” 

 

The doors opened. “You’re not going,” she said, avoiding looking at him as she walked to her door and waved her hand in front of the lock. “It’s a solo mission.” 

 

He followed her into her cabin, propriety be damned.  _ Not that there’s a lot of that between us,  _ she thought, remembering a hot, flexible tongue in her mouth.  _ Not the time, Kat. _ She grabbed a dress from the wardrobe - a gift from Kasumi - and ducked into the bathroom. 

 

“You have  _ got _ to be kidding me.” Garrus’s voice, from just outside the door, was dripping with derision. “You plan to take on an ardat-yakshi, who can literally melt your brain,  _ alone. _ ” 

 

She rolled her eyes as she stripped off her tank top. “This may come as a surprise to you, but I  _ can _ handle myself.” Kicking off her sweatpants, she explained, “We’ve got to draw her out or she’ll disappear, and then we’ll never find her.”

 

There was a heavy silence, and then - “You’re going to be  _ bait?” _ His voice was low but dangerous, anger lending it a hard edge. He practically growled the last word, and she licked her lip. His angry voice was fucking delicious, and she wondered idly if he realized what it could do to people. Did Turians get horny from each other’s voices? In the mirror, she noticed that her cheeks were flushed. God damn it,  _ focus _ . 

 

She shook her head to clear it and resumed shimmying herself into the skin tight dress. “Samara will be watching.” She smoothed down her hair and grabbed eyeliner from the cabinet. “She’ll intervene before anything happens.” 

 

“She better.” There was a clear “or else” in his words. There was silence for a moment as she finished her makeup. 

 

“Look, Shepard, just be care-” His words stopped as she opened the door and stepped out. His mandibles gaped. His eyes slowly moved over her and she felt each area of her body grow warm under his gaze. When his eyes met hers again, his expression caused her mouth to go dry and a throbbing between her legs. 

 

“Like what you see, Vakarian?” She broke the connection - as much as she would love to see where it was going, she had a crazy Asari to seduce. 

 

He shook his head slightly and chuckled. “You could say that. Damn, Shepard, you clean up nice.” 

 

She mimed preening, flipping her blonde hair. “Aw, you know how to make a girl blush, Big Guy.”  _ Among other things.  _

 

“Seriously, Shepard,” he met her eyes again. “Be careful. We can’t lose you.” His words and the sincerity in them caused her heart to constrict.

 

She patted him on the shoulder. “Relax. I got this.” 

 

\-- 

 

She did not have it. 

 

Morinth’s powers had proven to be too much for even she to resist. She stood under the scalding shower that night, remembering the intense pull of those black eyes, the feeling of her mind going cloudy and blank. She scrubbed her skin roughly, as if scrubbing away the feeling of powerlessness. It wasn’t a feeling she was accustomed to, and it still rankled. 

 

_ But nothing happened. _ No, instead, she watched Samara biotically strangle her own daughter. That would probably stick with the woman for a while.

 

She shut off the shower, wrapped herself in a towel and exited the bathroom - and almost jumped. 

 

“Jesus, Garrus, you scared the shit out of me.” 

 

He didn’t apologize. “So, how did playing bait go?” 

 

She glared at him as she rubbed a second towel through her wet hair.  As if he hadn’t been at the med bay door when Dr. Chakwas insisted on checking her over. “Nobody likes to hear ‘I told you so,’ Vakarian.” 

 

He stepped forward and suddenly he was close enough for her to smell him - armor polish, gunpowder and something vaguely earthy. “Then I won’t say it, but we both know I’m thinking it.” His words were teasing, but there was a humming in his subharmonics and a gleam in the eye not obscured by his visor. 

 

There was that familiar heat coming off of his body, and a warmth spreading from her belly and working its way down at his proximity. He looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for a witty rejoinder, but her mouth was annoyingly dry. That tended to happen when he was close, these days. 

 

Looking back, she wouldn’t be able to tell you who moved first, but suddenly they were lunging towards each other, and then his mouth was on hers. The heat from his body seemed to seep into her as she reached a hand to his fringe, the towel dropping from between them. His tongue swept her mouth and she shivered as the cool metal of his leg plates brushed her naked thigh. He turned them so that she was pressed against her fish tank, the cool glass a delicious contrast to her heated skin. His tongue tangled hotly with hers, each movement sending a jolt of heat through her and straight to her cunt. She arched against him, hungry for more contact, and hitched a leg around his waist. 

 

He purred deep in his subharmonics at her movement and moved to nip at the spot where her ear met her jaw. She moaned loudly as he nibbled and licked the skin there, feeling waves of heat rush through her. 

 

“You’re fully dressed and armored,” she said, her voice breathy and soft and not at all like her. “It’s not fair.” 

 

He chuckled against her neck, and the puff of his breath made her even more wet. She rubbed herself slightly against him. 

 

“If you want me to change that, you’re going to have to stop doing  _ that _ .” 

 

He stepped back slightly, and the sudden lack of his body heat left her skin cooling rapidly. She watched him with hungry eyes as he slowly began to unbuckle and strip off his armor, seeming to take forever. His gaze swept slowly from her toes up her body, the blue seeming very bright, as he undressed. By the time he was in his undersuit, she was practically panting.  Impatient, she gripped him by the front of his suit and yanked him back to her, capturing him in a hot, wet kiss. She nipped at his mandible, licked the sharp points of his teeth and tangled her tongue with his, her ardent arousal turning the kiss sloppy. She felt her back hit the fish tank, this time harder than before, as he growled into her mouth. 

Bringing one hand to his fringe and massaging with her finger tips, her other hand snaked around to the front of his undersuit, pushing into the pants and grasping for his cock - and found nothing but smooth plating, slightly open. 

 

She broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily. “What the fuck?”  

 

“What-  _ Oh. _ ” He cocked his head to the side. “Didn’t do your research, did you?”

 

“Don’t be a smart ass, you  _ know _ I didn’t.” 

 

“That makes one of us.” As if to prove his point, he bent his head and swirled his tongue around a nipple. She gasped and arched towards him. “It stays hidden until I’m...thoroughly aroused.”   
  


She arched a brow. “Challenge accepted.” His head was yanked roughly up towards her as she pressed her fingertips more firmly into his fringe, and then her mouth was on that leathery patch of skin behind his jaw. She began to bite and lick this area, massaging his fringe, and the hand inside his undersuit teased the opening in his plating. Garrus seemed to melt under her ministrations, his head dropping to the side as he purred softly. Slowly, the plating began to spread further, until she could work her fingers in to touch his cock. 

 

It was different than a human’s, the skin less soft, already lubricated.  _ Handy.  _ As she stroked it, feeling it harden further beneath her touch, she noted light ridging. Her cunt throbbed at the thought of those ridges inside her. 

 

When it was unsheathed, she wiggled out of his grasp and dropped to her knees, pulling down the pants of his undersuit as she did. 

 

“Shepard, what are you -” he choked on his question as she took him into her mouth. He  _ tasted _ different than a human, too - slightly spicy, and he made her lips tingle. She began to work him with her mouth, her tongue stroking the underside of his cock as she pumped the base with her hand. 

 

“ _ Spirits, _ ” he hissed as she sucked harder. His talons carded through her now damp hair. His subharmonics were going nuts now, keeping a steady hum as she licked and stroked and sucked. 

 

And then his hands were on her shoulders, pulling her away and up. She met his eyes, raised a brow and slowly licked her lips. 

 

“Spirits, Shepard.” His voice was strangled and weak and she felt a surge of pride. And then he was kissing her again, her breath feeling as if it left her body as he plundered her mouth with his tongue. 

 

Her hands were all over him, under the tunic of his undersuit, finding gaps in his natural plating and dragging nails over the softer flesh. 

 

She moaned, low in her throat, as he left her mouth and began to nibble and lick a path down her throat. Her entire body felt like it was burning, her cunt was pulsing and her inner thighs were slick with her own wetness. 

 

“Garrus,” she moaned his name as he reached her breasts and nipped the tender flesh before laving it with his tongue. “I swear to god, if you don’t fuck me  _ now _ I am going to throw you out the airlock.” 

 

He lifted his head from his ministrations and his mandibles flared in what she knew from familiarity was a smirk. “I guess if you put it  _ that _ way. . .” She felt him kick off the bottom of his undersuit, and then he was between her thighs - thick and hot. “Aye, aye, commander.” 

 

He thrust into her in one smooth, sharp stroke and she  _ screamed _ .  _ Jesus fucking christ, he’s big.  _ She was stretched around his girth, it was slightly painful but also ridiculously hot.  Her head fell back, thumping against the glass. 

 

Garrus stilled. “Spirits, Shepard, are you okay?” His voice was worried, but there was a tension in his subharmonics that told of his restraint. 

 

She blinked her eyes open - she hadn’t realized they had fallen closed - and met his concerned gaze. She smirked at him and leaned forward to nip at his neck. “I’m fine. Now, fuck me like you  _ want _ to hurt me, big guy.” 

 

He blinked owlishly at her, once, before his mandibles flared again. His brow plates set in concentration, and he withdrew from her. She almost gasped at the loss of him, but before she could complain, he was slamming back into her in a strong thrust that left her breathless. 

 

She tightened her legs around his waist and thrust her hips to meet his, and they began to fuck in earnest. His thrusts continued, getting harder and less controlled, as she rolled her body against his. His head was tucked against her shoulder, his breath hot on her neck, and between thrusts he nipped and licked the junction of her jaw and shoulder. It was as if he were trying to fuck her  _ into _ the fish tank - she felt every delicious inch of him, his ridges sliding against her g spot with every stroke. Her inner walls were beginning to tighten around him, her breathing growing more ragged as a staggering pressure began building inside her. She felt her muscles begin to tense, from her toes to her abdomen, her back arching as she panted and rolled her hips in a frenzied dance towards orgasm. 

 

When she came with a scream, her vision went white and she was briefly afraid she had passed out. 

 

But Garrus slammed into her again, faster now, and she automatically met his thrust. His subharmonics were humming loudly over his low, broken growls. He was close now, and she reached up to press her fingers into his fringe. 

 

He bit into the flesh of her neck, his sharp teeth piercing the skin like so much butter, as he thrust into her deeply. It was a stinging pain that brought her over the edge again, clenching around him as he spilled his release inside her. 

 

Their panting breaths were suddenly loud in the quiet room. He withdrew from her and stepped back, only for her suddenly weak legs to almost drop her to the floor. Garrus caught her and scooped her into his arms. 

 

“Put me down,” she protested, but it had no bite. He carried her to her bed and gently placed her down, before sitting next to her. His eyes moved over her neck, where she felt blood drying. 

 

“Shepard,” he began, and his voice was heavy with regret. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to - “

 

She pushed herself up and glared at him. “Garrus, I am going to say this once, and only once.” He looked at her expectantly, his blue eyes so clear. “Never worry about hurting me. I like a little pain with my pleasure. If it’s too much, I’ll let you know.” 

 

His brow plates lifted in surprise. “So, the bite. . .?”

 

“Was fucking amazing. Do it again next time, okay?”

 

His mandibles lifted in a smile. “Next time, huh?”

 

She swatted at his arm playfully. “Lie down, big guy. You can get back to calibrating after a nap.” 

 

He obeyed, stretching out carefully next to her without touching her. 

 

“Say, Shepard. That thing you did with your mouth, do all humans do that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it happened! You like?


End file.
